“No, he won’t. I’m going to do it, Maimie.”
She drew back a step, very pale,—so Cherry told me after,—and with her eyes wide open. “No,” she said, “I would rather have Jack’s arm.”
Cress turned white too, as he often did with passion. “I say, Maimie,” he said, “if you pretend to like that fellow better than me—”
I don’t know what made Maimie act as she did next, except that she was excited and faint, and a little off her balance. She turned round, and laid her hand on Jack’s arm, and said, “Yes, I do like Jack much the best.”
“Then take that,” Cress said furiously, turning upon Jack; and without a moment’s warning he struck his brother a violent blow in the face.
Such a thing had never happened in our house before, and Cherry stood utterly aghast.
Jack’s blood was easily roused; and though he had learned much self-control of late years, I think this sudden attack was too much for him. He flushed a burning crimson, and made one step towards Cress, with his fist up; but in that moment Maimie flung herself on him, clinging to both his arms with all her little strength.
“Don’t! don’t! O don’t, Jack!” she cried wildly. “It is all my fault. O don’t,—dear Jack, don’t be angry,—don’t mind. It will grieve Aunt Marion so; and it isn’t right—it isn’t right. You mustn’t quarrel because of me. O Jack, don’t!—dear Jack, do be patient! O Cherry, help me.”
“No, Maimie, I won’t,” Jack said gravely.
Cherry told me that it was wonderful to see how the flush and anger died out of his face at the touch of Maimie’s fingers. She held him tightly still; and he submitted to be held, though he could have shaken her off like a fly.